Little Boy Blue
by Kirra kills
Summary: "Little Boy Blue, come blow your horn, Light's stolen the widow, Robin's come to harm" Nelson Nash has always idly wondered why his family is the way it is. Well, a little nosing around the attic and he gets a shocker. He's the descendant of superheroes. and he's about to bite off a little more than he can chew. why'd he poke around, anyway? well, curiosity, mostly. and boredom.
1. Chapter 1

_Little Boy Blue,_

_Go blow your horn_

_Light's ransomed the widow_

_And Robin's come to harm_

_Where is the bat who looks after his people?_

_In a dingy mansion, 'neath a preacher's steeple._

_Will you get him?_

_No, not I._

_But Blue will save us, if he tries._

"…the hell is this shit?" incredulous cornflower blue eyes frowned down at the cryptic letter (who sends written letters anymore? E-mail is just so much faster) as Nelson Nash rubbed the back of his neck. Okay, maybe he wasn't supposed to be snooping around in Grandad's stuff, but an opened, new looking letter on top of his desk? Nelson hadn't been raised to mind his own business. And so, fifteen minutes later, he was found sitting at the desk, puzzling over the note, or poem, or riddle, or whatever it was supposed to be, trying to puzzle it out. Not that he was that good at puzzles, though his father had really tried instilling the art of problem-solving into his son. Nelson Nash preferred hitting the thing dead on. If that didn't work, you kicked it. And if that didn't work, throw a smoothie on the cursed thing and hope it shorts out. Or use the lock-picking skills Grandad taught you while dad wasn't looking. See? That was problem-solving. Unfortunately, Nash couldn't use any of that on the letter and when his great-grandfather walked in, the young red-head was staring hatefully at the thing.

"Nel, where are- _what are you doing?!_ Nelson jumped and quickly put the letter down, spinning around to face his great-grandfather. As old as Bruce Wayne (not Grandad's fault his son and grandson had all gotten girls pregnant during highschool), and just as spry, though it seriously seemed the guy would fall dead from shock. Nelson jumped up and went to his great-grandfather. "Hey, Grandad? You okay?" The old man hit his great-grandson over the head with his cane and glared hawkishly at the cringing red-head. "That was a private letter, young man" Nash shrugged. "It was opened and sitting there" The old man grinned. "Your father raised you too well, kiddo. Now come help me. I can't seem to reach the book I want, when you get older, it seems, you get smaller" He gave a slightly wheezy chuckle as Nash rolled his eyes and followed him out into the hall. "What was that note about, anyway?" The old man gave his descendant a sharp look. "Never you mind, Nel. Now, about that book…" Nelson sighed.

Visits to Grandad's was always both pleasant and tense, in Nash's opinion. Pleasant because, when dad was gone, Grandad showed him how to pick locks or scale walls, or basic instructions in how to effectively break an arm with the least minimal damage with a baseball bat. (Of course, they didn't use real arms, it might have been fun, but it was against the law. They practiced on neighbor's mailboxes, instead) There was also tracking, and learning how to shoot arrows, among other things, and Grandad often told him stories of his great-great-grandmother, who he supposedly looked a lot like, but he couldn't tell. The old photos were black and white and really faded, but Nelson loved when Grandad talked about her and his great-great grandfather, and their friends. He really did enjoy the stories about Tubby and Toughie, and their kids, who had been Grandad's friends. It only got tense when Nelson's dad was in the house, and there would be whispered arguments and angry, biting comments Nelson didn't get. He'd often tip-toe to his designated room (his dad's old room), and hide out till the arguments, and side-glances his way, and the biting comments were over, though for hours after there was a tense silence Nelson had learned by now not to try and breach.

It was the same as usual, sort of, when his dad walked through the door. Nelson Nash and Henry Rogers were at the table, Nelson learning a new whistle. Henry was grinning. "Good, good, now, you've got to repeat this three times, it's a special whistle you see. I learned it from my father, your great-great-grandfather, he always went by Tommy, and I taught it to your father, so I'll teach it to you" Nelson had been rather pleased by this. Maybe he could use it to get his team's attention, a secret whistle to call them together. That would be cool. And then his father came in. "What are you teaching my son now, dad" it was a low, angry warning, and Nash immediately got up and headed for the kitchen door, leading to the hall. He was beating a hasty exit or he'd get dragged into a conversation he still didn't understand.

However, since they always got a little bit louder when the door was closed, something prompted Nelson to stay and listen this time. He kneeled by the doorknob, where the wizened door had made a natural curved crack over time, and put his ear as close to it as he dared.

"Little….Blue….family business….not dragging him…_dead_, dad…"

"Wasn't….choice….attic, hidden, not….notebooks, of course….Blue Boys adventures…just innocent….it's his choice…Little Boy Blue is needed….Light, again….not…fine…"

The voices lapsed into silence and Nelson knew that he could go back in, but he just sat there, chewing his lip. He wasn't allowed into the attic by either Grandad or dad, he kept getting grounded when they saw him anywhere near the ladder, but they'd raised him to be curious. Besides, as usual the conversation didn't make sense to him, but it had something to do with that letter, and something to do with the attic. And using his deduction skills (that even he was willing to admit he was sorely lacking in) he decided that the attic was the answer he'd been needing for years and grounding or no, he was going to look around.

Nelson about jumped out of his skin as the ladder _creaaked_ down to the ground and looked over at the storage room's door, the storage room being where the attic entrance was. Nobody came in, there was no running footsteps, everything was fine. Nelson let out a breath and climbed up the ladder, then going down quickly and rummaging through a few boxes before coming out a bit dusty and with a working flashlight, and went up once more.

Nelson couldn't believe his eyes. There were costumes, four of them, and a carefully preserved boot of a fifth, on large mannequins in huge glass cases. He dimly recognized them from old pictures that were in the museum in Big City, where Grandad lived. The old superhero squad that kept the city safe, the Blue Boys. And, well, one girl, but he couldn't remember what she was called. He walked closer to the more prominent one, the only one with a red hood, gloves and boots, and just stared. It looked like it had been designed for a preteen. And why was he drawn to it? And why was it in Grandad's attic? He shook his head and continued looking around, there had been mention of notebooks, hadn't there? Those probably most likely held all the answers. He found them in a locked case. Make that double locked with individual locks on each notebook. Good thing he was handy with a pin and tumbler, and that the locks were so rusted on the case he could just yank them off. Nelson sat back and opened the notebooks. It didn't take him long to piece everything together as he looked through the notebooks, no, _adventure diaries_, and got the world-rocking of a lifetime.

"No freaking way"

His great-great-grandfather, great-grandfather, and uncle (who had died several years before Nelson was born, in the guy's teens, to everyone's dismay) had all been superheroes. More importantly, they'd been Little Boy Blue, leader of the Blue Boys, the now defunct protectors of the Big City.

It was about half-an-hour later when Nelson Nash, great-grandson to Henry Rogers, son of Tommy Rogers, the first Little Boy Blue, came downstairs and into the living room where his dad and Grandad were sitting. Nelson was cradling the old Little Boy Blue costume and the notebooks in his arms and he stared seriously at his family, who stared at him dumbstruck.

"We need to talk"

* * *

**A/N: I would like to say, right now, that Little Boy Blue and the Blue Boys, as well as Little Miss Redhead, are all Golden-Age comic book DC heroes and actually exist. I would also like to add that choosing to make Nelson Nash the descendant comes from his visiting relatives in on episode of BB and talking about a grandparent whose last name was Rogers. it was a throwaway line, but it got me thinking about my favorite preteen crimefighter, and so this came about. there will be more chapters, eventually, maybe, but right now I'm just curious as to what you guys think, and how you'd react to Nelson being fourth gen. Little Boy Blue :)**


	2. Chapter 2

They sat around the kitchen table, Nelson, his father, and Henry Rogers, Nelson's great grandfather. An old but well-preserved blue and red and yellow costume, as well as three worn notebooks, sat in the middle of the table like a bad omen. Nelson propped his elbows on the table and rested his head on folded hands. His father was glaring at the costume, and Henry had a slight smile on his face, as he looked at both of his legacies, his great-grandson and his old costume.

They'd been sitting like that for a while now, Nelson having no idea what to actually say after he'd demanded they sit down and talk about this. Neither of the other males were offering any help and so he finally cleared his throat. Right now, he wanted to punch something, attack something, but there was nothing to attack. He had to talk. 'Use your words, Nellie' he remembered his mom would always say. His throat constricted at the thought of his mother and his words came out as a croak as a result. "Why didn't either of you tell me?!" He looked at Henry, then his father. Henry chuckled. "Oh, it's simple. The heritage might be passed down father to son, but only if the son earns it, by finding the costume" Nelson's father gave the old man a sharp glance. "'Well-Hidden', huh? 'Not going to find it in a million years', right?" Henry had an innocent look on his face. "It used to be, and then I thought he'd never find it, so I let the costumes out to air, and reminisce, you can't deny an old man his memories, can you?" The other man snorted and Nelson chuckled.

"Okay, great, I guess I earned it. I don't know if I want to join a legacy of goody-two-shoes-" Henry began laughing so hard he choked and Nelson had to go and get him water and his pills, sitting by the old man and patting him on the back till he recovered. "Is that what you think? That we were good boys? I took up the suit to make the police look bad. And, well, my father was head of police and I had a sort of obsession with proving myself a better hero than he ever was. My father, well, he did it to get his lawyer father to stop complaining about his cases and the gangsters involved, and your uncle well, he did it because he was bored, and joining that group was simply to rebel against me and my rules" Nash smirked. Well, it all sounded like things he'd do. "Guess gramps never found the costume then?" The old man nodded. "My son never found it, so I was pleased when his oldest found it, and your father after him. But, well, after what happened to your uncle, I'm not surprised he said no" Nelson looked at his dad, who'd for some reason decided to keep Nelson's mother's last name, not his own. "Did mom ever know about it?"

The older Nash looked like he'd swallowed a bad lemon and clasped his hands. "Yes. She did. She wanted me to take the suit up, be a hero. I refused though, your mom was pregnant with you, and she was fragile," Henry Rogers snorted and Nelson's father glared at him for a moment. Nelson swallowed and nodded. He didn't really remember his mother; she'd died when he was seven from a heart defect that she'd had her entire life. He remembered her perfume though, it had been peppermint and vanilla and sage. "Besides, your uncle died playing hero; we lost his antigravity suit and his sonic horn. There was no way I was risking my neck when you were on the way, your mom was the way she was, and there was risk of death"

While Nelson couldn't completely hate his dad for not doing it, especially for those reasons, still the first thing that popped into his head was 'fucking coward' but he supposed that not everyone was made to be a masked hero. The hockey star ran his hands through his short crew-cut and looked at his father and great-grand-father. "Okay, now what?" Henry slid the suit over so it was in the exact center of the table. "Now, you choose" He said simply, and Nelson gave a snort of laughter. "No pressure"

* * *

Nelson ran across the tops of buildings in full costume, altered due to his height and husky build. And by 'altered' his grandfather meant creating an entirely new suit. Less flashy than the original Boy Blue costume, Nelson's was a one-piece blue catsuit with red gloves, red boots, a yellow scarf/cape that flew several feet behind him and a blue hood and silver mask. Nelson had wanted to ditch the yellow monstrosity, but had to concede that it was important to keep the original colors of the costume so people knew who he was, though he had every intention of changing it the second he could. Perhaps his splash of yellow could be a belt, or something…

**_Nelson, focus boy!_** Nelson winced as his father's voice blared through the radio in Nelson's ear. He flailed in surprise as he jumped and landed on the next building in a messy tumble. A mess of static bzzed through Nelson's ear as his father sighed. **_You have to be on guard at all times, kiddo. This means training. I'm tough because I don't feel like making up a story for how my son died, and going to visit an unmarked gravestone, got it?_** Personally, Nelson felt like his father was over-reacting, but then again, Heroes died all the time, and in bizarre ways sometimes. Maybe having his dad and grampa as his techies and back-ups was a good idea, even if they agonized over safety, protocol and sometimes argued over the line.

Nelson leaped off his building and began climbing up another, getting to one of the tallest roofs in Big City, the State Capitol Building. It was in the center of the city and great to see from. "I live for the applause plause, live for the applause plause" He sang under his breath, giddy from the sheer height and rush of the mere thought of being a masked hero, able to kick butt for good reasons. His father chuckled. **_If you're done singing popsongs, there's some problems going on about a block away from you, some new upstart Jokerz gang. Care to show them why setting up a Jokerz gang here is a bad idea?_** The 'but I just got up here!' whine died on Nelson's lips and he grinned. "With pleasure" He got down almost gracefully(hours of practicing scaling the sides of the building helped) and hit the next roof running, going off to do his new job, and do it with savage pleasure.

This, is what he was born to do.


End file.
